The trick is that they add the tomato, thus making the traditional Irish breakfast especially healthy. Complete with most animals in existence in the Western hemisphere, this artery-clogging conglomeration sticks with you the rest of the day, making lunch an especially tough endeavor. Notice the black and white pudding up top. I’m still not sure what’s inside of these, and I’m not sure why they’re called pudding, but I do know they’re best eaten with BBQ sauce and thus adds to the confusion as to what exactly is breakfasty about this meal.
After the lively night in, a group of us headed out for the above breakfast then walked south to a graffiti festival our friend from the hostel, Rene, had tipped us off about.
There’s probably no better indication of “New Dublin” then this: a graffiti show, full of autograph seekers, a breakdancing competition, and a live D.J. We spent a good two hours checking out the events and meeting the artists. Two of the guys were from NYC too and I tipped them off to some good walls in my neighborhood that were, how should say, ready for improvement.
Painters from all around the world came to Dublin for this, the first of four shows this summer. Following this festival the painters were off to Belfast that onto the Continent for shows in Copenhagen, Paris and Marseilles.
Things may have been a little slow on dry Good Friday, but that only means everyone was even more ready to head out enjoy the night in Dublin’s Temple Bar district. A little crowded, a little touristy, it’s probably best to grab a drink or two here then move on to some of the other venues south from the district. Which is exactly what we did after grabbing some Absinthe (bad idea) at the Czech Inn, then heading south on South Great George’s Street to Globe, a club/bar that (for Easter?) was projecting Ben Hur on the back wall (I guess if you were on a bad date it provides a little entertainment).
I have to admit, this was my first foray into the world of Absinthe, but I’m pretty sure you’re allowed to blame all your ills the day after on it, which is exactly what I’m attributing this head cold that I’ve come down with on. Being here in Dublin, I’ll quote Dublin’s own Oscar Wilde: “After the first glass, you see things as you wish they were. After the second, you see things as they are not. Finally, you see things as they really are, and that is the most horrible thing in the world.”
Black pudding is made with blood, fat, meat bits and a some sort of starch such as oats, potato and/or bread cooked and congealed into the shape of a sausage.
White pudding is the same sans the blood.
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